Silent Night
by A Forgotten One
Summary: Salisbury Plain, 1914. Jem experiences the true power of Christmas and the peace it brings.


Silent Night

_December 24__th__ 1914, Salisbury Plains, the Western Front._

Jem sighed as he leaned back against the muddy wall of the trench. Overhead, the sky was darkening; a sky covered in ominous grey clouds. Clouds that did nothing but rain and rain some more. They hardly let the sun's rays through and rarely chose to snow rather than dump more water into the already big water hole, below.

"Bloody rain," Jem muttered as he shifted his numb feet, "Can't stop raining and snowing and-" But he was cut short by a large drift of snow sliding into the trench on top of him and the other soldiers around him. There were muffled yells and cursing galore. One soldier, however, made his troubles known very loudly.

"Holy hell!" he exclaimed as the snow covered him. He spluttered and voiced on behalf of them all, "As if a trench full of mud and dirty water isn't enough. Jeez, what next, a bloody avalanche?!"

There were a couple of laughs that were soon quietened by an angry Lieutenant further down.

"Quiet men!" he hissed. "Do you want the Germans to see where we are?"

"Aww, shut up, Lieutenant. They can't see us. We're all stuck in bloody trenches, if you didn't notice already," someone replied angrily. Several "ayes" followed, and most soldiers nodded in agreement.

"Hear us, then!" the officer said huffily.

"They're only six foot or so, that a way," another private added, gesturing towards the lip of the trench, "Aren't you, eh, Jerry bastard?"

Jem got up and stood as close as he possibly could, without putting his life in too much danger, to the top of the trench. He shushed the men around him.

"What is it, Blythe?" someone spoke for them all.

Then a shout came from across No-man's land.

"Look who's talking, eh, Tommy?" it shouted.

"We're not Poms!" a corporal hollered back.

Everyone in the trench stayed quiet, listening for a reply. But none came. Only the shouting of an angry German officer drifted back to the listening Canadians.

"Can't see anything," Jem said, as he peered through a periscope, into the void beyond.

"Give us a look," another soldier said. Jem moved over to let him look through.

"Jeez, they really are only a stone's throw away," he said softly.

***

Soon it began to rain again, if you could call it rain. The droplets of water came drizzling down. It wasn't long before the whole front was covered in a fresh lot of water. The rain came in sweeps across the flat plains, as the low clouds continued to roll by.

"Wonder how the Huns are doin'. They must be gettin' wet, too," a voice said thoughtfully.

"Maybe they're all dead," someone else chimed in cheerfully.

"Fat chance," a gloomy private scoffed.

"Well, we haven't heard a peep from them for a few hours," said the ever optimistic one.

"That's a point, Harry," Jem said.

"Whatever," the gloomy private replied.

"Well, it's true. They can't be much better off than us."

"Don't give a crap 'bout the bastards," Harry said aggressively.

"Hell. They aren't any different to you. They kill us then we kill them. They kill our mates then we kill theirs. They have families and so do we. Where all in the same pot of stew," Jem reasoned, determined to make his point.

"Shut up! Not in for a lecture," Harry said angrily.

"Wasn't giving you a bloody lecture."

"Oh, yeh. You want to fight it over, do you?"

Jem got up, keen to put this soldier in his place.

"Fight fight fight!" some of the soldiers chanted.

"Hey! Stop that! No fighting between troops!" an officer shouted, irritated.

"How do you like it?"

"All you got," Jem said, preparing himself.

The other soldier grinned cruelly. Now the rest of the men were yelling with excitement.

"You get him, Blythe!" a soldier by the name of Garry hollered. He was quickly muffled by a member of the opposition. Before long, small fights were breaking out all along the trench.

"Order in the ranks!!" someone yelled above all the fuss. "Shut up the lotta ya, or I'll have you all courts martialled and shot before you can think twice!"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, fighting like school boys 'bout God knows what. This is NO WAY for soldiers of the Canadian Expeditionary Force to behave. Now sit down and think about what you were doing. Any of you found continuing to fight over this or cussing so loud the whole of Europe can hear you, will be shot immediately, with everyone an eye witness," the colonel tacked the last sentence on as though it were an after thought.

"Do I make my self perfectly clear?" he said calmly.

Rumbles of apology and grudging assenting followed.

"I said, do I make myself clear?" each word was pronounced syllable by syllable, with threat woven into each one.

"Yes, sir!" the soldiers shouted.

"Good." Then he left, leaving behind him an eerie silence.

***

For a long time, no one said anything. No one coughed or sneezed, and it was as though every soldier had ceased to breathe. Only the rats continued to move about, scuttling from corpse to corpse, gorging themselves on rotting human remains. The rain continued to drizzle down and Jem gazed blankly at the crumbling wall in front of him. His mind was completely blank; as blank as the grey hell that trapped him from every direction. He couldn't think, and he wasn't the only one feeling like that. There was a general feeling of uneasiness over the soldiers. It was too quiet, far too quiet.

"Gosh, it's quiet," somebody whispered softly, breaking the silence.

"Too quiet," another agreed.

"Maybe the bastards are about to launch another attack?"

"Nah!"

"Don't see why not."

"Yeh, I wouldn't put anything past the Boche."

"They can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause they're all dead or dying, like us."

There was an awkward pause, as though all were expecting the Germans to leap over the parapet, shouting, with razor sharp bayonets drawn. But they didn't.

"Still too quiet."

***

Silence had descended over the front. Every man was as still as stone. Even the rats stopped their escapades. Then the rain ceased to fall, leaving the water to drip in a monotone of sounds. The guns didn't fire anymore and there were no more explosions. Enemy and allied trench alike were struck by a deadly silence. A powerful force had descended upon them all.

***

The silence was deafening. The tension rose to a crescendo and then snapped. The powerful spell had been broken.

***

It came, floating on the still night air.

_Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,_

_Alles schl__äft; einsam wacht._

_Nur das traute hochheilige Paar._

_Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,_

_Schalf in himmlischer Ruh!_

_Schalf in himmlischer Ruh!_

"God help us," Jem said softly.

"God help them too, poor Jerries," someone else whispered.

"Maybe they ain't that bad, after all," a third person said wonderingly.

"They can't be. Not if they sing a song like that," Jem replied, "No. They're just the same as us."

***

_Silent night, holy night,_

_All is calm, all is bright._

_Round yon virgin mother and child,_

_Holy infant so tender and mild._

_Sleep in heavenly peace!_

_Sleep in heavenly peace!_

The voices of both the dead and the living, friend and foe, combined to from a beautiful harmony. The poor, young soldiers, plagued with disease and pain, found their only source of comfort in song. They shared their suffering and sorrow. Though they killed one another, they were really killing themselves. Side by side, they fought the struggles of hell together. The souls of the dead were free to roam, and did so, in peace. Once death had come, nothing separated the Germans from their 'enemies'. But whilst life was in them still, they were mortal and lay not at rest. Only a silent night could bring them together.

It was the 25th December, 1914. The guns were silent. There was peace on the front and the spirits of both the living and the dead felt it. And it was Christmas.

_Remember what Christmas is about. Remember that it is a time of peace and forgiveness, not hostility and fear, selfishness and greed. What Jem says at the end is a prayer . . . he now knew that there was no fun in 'potting Huns'. In fact, killing men like yourself was no fun at all; perhaps Jem wondered how Walter had known that. Maybe he felt ashamed of himself for thinking that murdering other people would be fun. Jerry isn't in this one, because (correct me if I am wrong) he was further down the line._

_Always keep faith. :)_


End file.
